A Purrfect Alibi

“Good point,” Mom said. “Kinda proves they’re fakes.”

“Which means the killer wasn’t a ghost,” I added.

Thud!

We all looked up at the ceiling. “Did that come from the attic?” Mom asked.

“Don’t think so. Kind of loud.” Millie walked around the kitchen, her eyes still glued to the ceiling. “I’d be surprised if we could hear something from the attic two floors below.”

“Must be the cats,” Mom said.

Of course it was the cats, you never knew what they would be getting up to, though usually they were a lot more silent and sneaky.

“Probably knocked something over.” Millie turned her attention away from the ceiling, opened the fridge and started to rummage around. “Have you thought about what you’ll serve for breakfast tomorrow? Even with all this going on the guesthouse has to keep its reputation for fine breakfasts. We don’t need to have another reason for people to think about canceling.”

Shoot! I’d completely forgotten about that. My mind raced to think up the quickest and easiest meal, but I didn’t want Millie to know I was thinking ‘quick and easy’. “I was thinking we should go with something that I can heat up in the morning, like a frittata. And then I could make some waffles too. The sugar will set off those feel-good endorphins and they won’t be worried about the fact that one of them could get murdered next.”

Millie scowled at me. “Do you really think someone else might get murdered? It looked like Madame Zenda’s murder had a specific purpose.”

“Yeah,” Mom chimed in. “I don’t think anyone else is in danger.”

“Probably not, but I can whip up the batter in the morning and cook them hot in the waffle maker for them. I have some spinach I need to use up, I can put that in the eggs.” No sense in wasting food, and I needed to be frugal, just in case.

“Sounds good.” Millie disappeared into the fridge and came out with the ingredients for the frittata.

Mom pushed in beside Millie and pulled out some string cheese. “That’s smart thinking,” she said as she pulled off a string from the cheese and dangled it into her mouth. “Everyone loves a sweet and savory combo and maybe that will have them raving about the breakfast and talking about the dead body not so much.”

Millie put the spinach, eggs, milk and cheese on the counter and preheated the oven.

The cats appeared in the kitchen and trotted over to sniff at the oven, then fixed me with their intelligent eyes. I was relieved to see that Nero had dust on his whiskers, indicating that it had probably been them that caused the thud. It looked like they had been in the attic. I knew it was dusty in there. Not that I was worried about it being a ghost or anything, more like a nosey guest. Or Anita Pendragon. How the cats had gotten in there, I had no idea. Maybe there was a secret passage or something. Come to think of it, one of those old servants’ rooms had a door with a crack in it that led straight to the attic, the cats could probably fit through that.

Millie bent down to pet them, but they had another agenda.

Meow. Nero glanced at me, then trotted over to the narrow servants’ stairs that led to the attic.

Meroop. Marlowe was right behind him, her tail fluffed up as she trotted ahead of Nero, then looked back as if to see if we were following.

Nero kept giving me the eye. I thought back to the previous murders. Each time someone had been murdered the cats had seemed to be suggesting things to me. I could have sworn they’d helped me out of a few scrapes, maybe even saved my life. I was starting to believe that what Millie had said about cats being smarter than humans was true. Maybe I should take their advice under consideration. And right now, it looked as if they wanted me to follow them upstairs.

I was just starting toward the stairs when Myron’s voice bellowed from the foyer. “Josie! I’m here for my notebook.”

Millie’s face scrunched up. “Is that Myron Remington?”

“Yeah, he mentioned he had left his notebook and pen here.” I reluctantly turned away from the stairs, ignoring the protesting meows and exasperated looks from the cats.

“Can’t he get a new notebook?” Mom asked. “Such a cheapskate.”

“Well he does like the finer things. Did you see his notebook has a leather cover and that pen looks very old and expensive.” Millie focused on beating the eggs and I left the two of them in the kitchen and headed to the foyer to meet Myron.

“I see a murder hasn’t scared these people off yet,” Myron said when he saw me coming down the hall. Unfortunately, he said it loud enough for the people in the parlor to hear him.

Victor called out from his spot next to the fireplace where he was sitting in a chair swinging some sort of talisman in the air. “Scare us off? No way. Now more than ever I know that I’ll be able to communicate with Jed and solve the mystery not only of his death and where the treasure is buried, but also who killed Madame Zenda or Betty Sue or whatever her name was.”

“What do you mean?” Gail asked. “I thought Jed killed Madame Zenda.”